


choke me like you hate me, but you love me

by ash_mcj



Series: Teen Wolf Events 2021 [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha Kink, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beacon Hills Preserve (Teen Wolf), Biting, Choking, Emotional Sex, First Time, Gay Sex, Hickeys, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Scratching, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, beta shift sex, shower, teen wolf bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29956377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ash_mcj/pseuds/ash_mcj
Summary: “How long do you think I have to live?” Stiles whispered urgently.“Ten,” Derek’s voice said, his voice lethally composed.Stiles jumped and turned to see him standing at the top of the spiral staircase. “Ten what?”“Nine,” Derek replied.“You should probably run,” Erica advised.[or: Stiles scratches Derek's Camaro and it leads to an impromptu run for his life through the Preserve - but it ends with him pinned to Derek's mattress, so Stiles calls it a win][Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Beta Shift Sex]
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Teen Wolf Events 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2152587
Comments: 63
Kudos: 623
Collections: Sterek Goodness, Teen Wolf Bingo





	choke me like you hate me, but you love me

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Countdown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151217) by [SaraSamslave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraSamslave/pseuds/SaraSamslave). 



> Teen Wolf Bingo Square: Beta Shift Sex

The second Stiles heard the _screech_ of his jeep scraping against the side of Derek’s sleek black Camaro, he knew he was fucked. There was no way that Derek didn’t hear it - there was no way _anyone_ had managed to not hear it, since most of the pack was gathered in Derek’s loft just upstairs.

It was Stiles’ fault for thinking he could fit between Derek’s prized possession and Lydia’s Toyota - and he was an idiot. This wasn’t _new_ information, but it was _relevant_ information. And of course, he happened to misjudge his space on the side of the _Camaro_ , instead of the Toyota, because that was his luck.

He didn’t even bother properly parking Roscoe - he just stepped out and looked around warily, half-expecting the Alpha to jump out from the shadows and maul him. When that didn’t happen, he opted to head upstairs. Maybe if he apologized and offered to pay for it to get fixed - with the nonexistent money he had, which was another problem - before Derek had a chance to see the damage, then he wouldn’t die today. It would be nice to see his nineteenth birthday.

He made it up to the loft and groaned when he realized that the door was slid wide open. There was literally _no_ barrier that could have blocked that awful noise. He quickly scanned the room and found Scott, Isaac, and Erica by the large windows, Allison and Lydia conversing on the shitty couch, and Boyd and Cora cooking something that smelled fantastic in the kitchen.

No Derek. Fuck.

Stiles rushed over to Scott and his best friend simply shook his head at him.

“You heard?”

“Dude, everyone heard,” Scott said, his face in an empathetic grimace.

“Derek’s heart literally stopped for a second - I think he nearly had a heart attack,” Isaac told him, confirming all of his worst fears.

Derek had heard. Derek was mad. Stiles was dead.

“How long do you think I have to live?” Stiles whispered urgently.

“Ten,” Derek’s voice said, his voice lethally composed.

Stiles jumped and turned to see him standing at the top of the spiral staircase. “Ten what?” 

“Nine,” Derek replied.

“You should probably run,” Erica advised.

“Shit!” Stiles hissed, bolting out of the loft and heading down the stairs as quickly as he could without tumbling down. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though, when his alternative was dying via werewolf teeth.

"Eight," Derek’s voice echoed down the stairwell and Stiles fumbled to get his keys from his pocket and got in the jeep. He jammed the key into the ignition and tore out of the parking lot as fast as Roscoe was able to.

Once he was on the road, he looked in the rearview mirror to see if there was either a black Camaro following, or a wolfed out Alpha. He saw neither. Confusedly, he twisted his body to look over his shoulder out the back window - but there was still only road.

Derek _had_ to be done counting by then - ten wasn’t a very large number.

Stiles turned back to look forward again and shrieked “Holy shit!” upon seeing Derek in the middle of the road, red eyes blazing, arms hanging loosely by his sides, and his mouth set in its permanent frown. Stiles slammed on his breaks.

The car had barely skidded to a stop, before Stiles frantically attempted to clamber into the passenger side, seeing that Derek was coming up on his left. He never made it though, as the driver’s door was pulled open and he yelped as strong hands grabbed his hips and pulled him from the car.

He was slammed against the side of the jeep, one hand wrapped firmly around his throat, sharp edges of claws pressing into his delicate skin, while the other was gripping the top frame of the Jeep, bracketing Stiles between the metal and the wolf.

“Shit, Derek, dude,” Stiles stammered, but flinched when Derek snarled. “Not dude! Derek! Look, I didn’t mean to scratch the Camaro. Seriously - I’m _so_ sorry… I just cut the corner too close, and _-”_

Derek leaned his face in towards the side of Stiles’ neck and Stiles couldn’t hold back the undignified squeak that came out of him as he realized, ‘ _This is it. He’s about to rip my throat out with his teeth.’_

“Run,” Derek seethed lowly, hot breath tickling Stiles’ ear in a way that made his heart race. 

He was _playing_ with him.

“Derek -”

“Ten,” He said again, red eyes dragging over Stiles predatorily as he let go of him and stepped away.

Stiles didn’t need any more encouragement. The second he was free of Derek’s hold, he was sprinting into the treeline of the preserve that hugged the road and scrambled up a hill he knew led to the Beacon Hills Lake.

“Nine!” He heard Derek call from behind him. “Eight!”

Stiles forced his legs to move faster, despite the dull ache and warm burn that had already begun spreading throughout them. He was really out of shape - lacrosse was obviously a waste of time.

“I’m dead, I’m gonna die,” Stiles wined to himself breathlessly.

“Seven!” Derek was close, _way_ too close for comfort. His voice seemed to reverberate around the trees and Stiles wasn’t even sure where he was exactly. It was hard to hear through his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Six!”

“Fuck off!” Stiles yelled back pathetically.

He was going to die. This really was the end. This was why humans didn’t run with wolves - especially not ones with Camaros.

“Five,” Derek growled nearby, a much more primal edge in his voice this time, that only reaffirmed what Stiles knew was inevitable. “Better run faster, Red.”

Stiles darted through the trees, stray branches and twigs pulling at his clothing as he ran. The lake was close - he knew it was. Maybe another minute away. He could make it. If he got to the lake, it would mask his scent. Right?

"Four.” There was no need for Derek to even raise his voice anymore - he was that close. Stiles was _dead_.

“Shit,” Stiles choked out, coughing wetly as his lungs burned.

Fuck running. Fuck driving. Fuck Camaros. _Fuck werewolves._

“Three,” Derek snarled, allowing Stiles to see him running beside him only a yard to his left. “Nowhere to go now.”

Derek thought Stiles was cornered between him and the lake. He thought that meant he’d won.

Stiles was not a fucking quitter, thank you very much.

He sprinted unfalteringly into the lake, the frigid water filling his shoes and pooling around his legs. As soon as he was deep enough, he dove under to swim further out.

When he needed to come up for air - which wasn’t long, since his lungs were already on the verge of giving out on him after his impromptu run through the preserve - he popped his head above the surface and saw Derek standing on the shore with an amused look on his face.

“Good job… now you’re soaked in disgusting lake water. What’s the next step of your brilliant plan?”

Fuck. This was the worst plan. Stiles was an _idiot_ . A _freezing_ idiot. But how was he supposed to think straight with Derek chasing him?

He could never think straight around Derek, _ever_.

“Fine!” Stiles exclaimed, wading back towards the shore since Derek was obviously just going to be waiting there for him to come out. His limbs were tense from the cold that had seeped into his muscles, which made the whole ordeal of getting out of the lake take much longer than it did to get in. “Y-You’ve got m-me, Alpha. W-What are you gonna d-do - eat me?”

“Do you want me to?” Derek smirked.

Stiles felt his face warm with a blush he hoped the darkness would cover - which was a futile wish, since Derek was a fucking werewolf. Was he… flirting with him? That was ridiculous, right? He couldn’t… Derek couldn’t like _him_. Not when he was just the scrawny human researcher in their modelesque pack.

Not when Derek looked like he stepped out of every wet dream Stiles had since he was sixteen - which he _did_. Because Stiles was only a teenager and stood no chance against Mr. Tall, Dark and Brooding, with those muscles, and eyebrows, and sea glass eyes.

“F-Fuck off,” He grumbled, not sure what else to say. He had to just be joking, right? Obviously. Joking had become fairly normal between them over the last couple years - Stiles would even go so far as to suggest they might have been nearing _friendship_...well, before he scratched the Camaro.

Stiles _finally_ stepped out of the lake, shivering almost violently in the cool night breeze. He hadn’t anticipated how _cold_ that lake would be. As soon as he was on dry land, Derek was coming into his space and Stiles didn’t even bother flinching away - he’d accepted his fate. Death by Derek would be better than hypothermia, which he was pretty sure he was on the way to. 

To his surprise, he was not gutted. Derek grabbed the collar of Stiles’ flannel and peeled it off of his stiff shoulders and down his arms.

“W-what are you d-doing?”

“Trying to make sure you keep your fingers and toes,” Derek told him gruffly. “You need to get these off of you.”

Any aversion Stiles had to shedding clothes quickly dissipated when Derek’s hands slipped under the hem of his shirt and ran hot trails up his sides as he coaxed the shirt upwards. 

“You’re so warm,” Stiles sighed, leaning into the touch without even thinking.

There were no thoughts outside of _fuck, I’m cold_.

“I didn’t jump into a _lake_.”

“D-did you want t-to? I’ll w-wait.”

“Shut up.” It was difficult to see in the dark, but Stiles could’ve sworn he saw a pull at the corner of Derek’s lips.

Stiles nearly whimpered when Derek’s hands left his skin, but then the heavy heat of a worn leather jacket was set across his shoulders, enveloping him in a pine-scented warmth that nearly made him cry in relief as it began sinking into his aching muscles like sunshine.

With the cold subtly ebbing away, Stiles’ awareness began to come back. He was very much _shirtless_ . It wasn’t necessarily that Stiles didn’t like his body - though that had crossed his mind several times with how often he was surrounded by the wildly defined torsos of his packmates - he just… didn’t like being so _open._ So _bare. Vulnerable_. Even Scott had only seen him shirtless a handful of times, since he usually wore undershirts in the locker room and waited to shower until he got home.

Once Stiles had slipped his arms into the jacket sleeves and zipped it up to cover himself, he realized just how _weird_ this was. What the hell was happening? Derek never let _anyone_ touch his leather jacket, yet he gave it to Stiles? After he’d scratched his car, no less.

Derek looked him over for a moment and then turned and began briskly walking away without saying anything, but Stiles inferred that he was probably supposed to follow, so he did. They made their way through the Preserve side-by-side as they headed towards Roscoe. 

“You’re such a idiot,” Derek told him finally, breaking the several minutes of silence that had accompanied their walk. 

“I p-panicked, okay?” Stiles reasoned, moving his hands up and down his arms in hopes of facilitating the defrosting process his body was going through. “You ha-haven’t killed me yet and I really d-don’t understand what’s g-going on - but I know it p-probably isn’t good.”

When they came upon the jeep, Derek immediately climbed into the still-open driver’s side before Stiles had the chance.

“Excuse you!” Stiles complained, but got no response. He huffed and walked around to get into the passenger side. “I don’t let people drive my jeep.”

“I don’t let people scratch my Camaro.”

Stiles figured that was a good argument, so he stayed quiet for the drive back to the loft.

It was a short trip, and he was still shivering when they pulled back into the parking lot. They both got out and Stiles’ legs nearly collapsed, the coldness weakening them. He barely had time to wobble, though, before he felt a stabilizing hand on his elbow, helping to support his weight.

Stiles’ breath hitched embarrassingly when he looked up to see that Derek was less than a foot away, staring down at him with those green, moonlit eyes that Stiles frequently got lost in during pack meetings. They worked their way into Stiles’ fantasies almost as often as his red ones did - which is how Stiles knew that the reason he was always so into Derek wasn’t just an Alpha kink.

He _liked_ him. Well… sometimes he thought it might be more than that. When he let himself linger on thoughts about how kind and brave and unfairly _broken_ the man was… how much he wanted to hug him and tell him that he knew he was doing his best... how _badly_ he wanted him to open up to him - to _anyone_ . But, he didn’t like to dwell too much on his unrequited feelings. He _knew_ that Derek knew. He had to. Stiles didn’t even need to be a werewolf to be fully aware that he probably smelled of affection and/or arousal every time he was in Derek’s vicinity. Stupid werewolves and their super sniffers.

“I should get home,” Stiles managed, his voice closer to a whisper than he’d intended. It was odd, sometimes, how whispering just seemed appropriate. As if speaking normally when it was this late at night and someone was this close, would be _wrong_. “I should shower.”

Derek’s eyes flickered between Stiles’ and then fell to his lips for several long seconds, before he suggested, “I have a shower.”

What the _fuck_ was happening?

“You don’t have to-”

“Do you want to?” He asked, genuineness clear in his voice and open, nearly _soft_ expression. 

This wasn’t a joke. He wasn’t just picking on Stiles or something for his obvious crush - this was an _offer_. An offer for what exactly, Stiles wasn’t sure...but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to find out. He’d always been a curious guy, after all.

“I need words, Stiles,” Derek prompted, pulling his focus back to him.

“Yeah, I… yes… I want.”

“What do you want?”

Stiles changed his mind - he didn’t have a crush on this stupid fucking _dick_ that was going to make him _say_ it.

Then he momentarily panicked, because what if he was misreading this? Derek had _never_ shown an interest before. Stiles was probably just cold and horny because he was wearing Derek’s jacket and they were very close to each other. Not to mention the fact that Derek just hunted him through the woods, red eyes and all, which he’d fantasized about countless times. Stiles wasn’t sure when his fear and arousal decided they were one in the same, but...he was pretty sure it was Derek’s fault.

Derek hooked his finger under Stiles’ chin and tilted it up to force eye-contact and Stiles let out a shaky breath as Derek ran his thumb over his lower lip. “What do you want, Red?”

“You,” slipped out before Stiles had time to stop it.

A low growl rumbled in Derek's chest as he slipped the tip of his finger past Stiles' lips to brush across the tops of his bottom teeth, then slid to pull his lower lip down and expose them.

And then he was being led up the stairs towards the loft by the hand, feeling a little light-headed and a _lot_ like he forgot how to breathe. Holy _shit_.

Stiles had completely forgotten that it was a pack night, until the two of them walked into the busy loft. Fantastic. Stiles was soaking wet, wearing Derek’s jacket - which looked much less cool zipped up on Stiles’ slender frame than it did when Derek wore it - and undoubtedly _reeking_ of arousal.

“Out,” Derek said, authority ringing in his voice as he pulled Stiles towards the spiral staircase. Luckily, there was no argument or questions - which was probably because they all knew why they were being kicked out, judging by the snickers Stiles heard as they fled the loft and slid the door closed with a _bang_.

Once Derek and Stiles were upstairs, the latter realized that he’d never seen Derek’s room before. It wasn’t nearly as bare and minimalist as the rest of the loft, much to his surprise. There was a nice ‘L’-shaped black desk in the far corner of the room, and a long matching dresser that was stretched across the wall. 

His eyes finally landed on the large bed sticking out from the back wall. Dark red silk sheets peeked out from where the black comforter was pulled back and Stiles accidentally said, “Holy fuck.”

Derek snorted amusedly from within the bathroom attached to the room, before the sound of the shower turning on reminded Stiles what he was actually there for.

“You do have a shower.” Stiles noticed after joining Derek in the bathroom, looking at the black-tiled shower which was adorned with a rainfall shower head in the ceiling.

“You thought I was lying?” Derek swiftly pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor in the corner by the door, where Stiles noticed his wet shirt and flannel were, too. Apparently, Derek had the decency to bring them back. Stiles definitely would have left them out in the woods with the brain-freeze he had going on. 

Derek was shirtless… with the shower running. Oh. _Oh_ . He was _joining_ him.

Stiles greedily raked his eyes over the chiseled chest and abs of the man in front of him, which he had to have seen a thousand times by this point - but they never failed to make his brain turn offline.

Derek moved towards him and he backed into the counter, heart hammering in his chest.

Was this _actually_ happening? Was he in Derek Hale’s bathroom with him? Did Derek have _silk_ sheets and a fucking _rainfall shower head_ in his shower?

“You smell like that lake,” Derek told him as he crowded him against the counter. 

“Then it worked...I was trying to hide my scent,” Stiles whispered, though it sounded too loud for the small bathroom.

He jumped slightly when he felt Derek’s hands skim across his waist and slide up his sides the way they did in the woods, then gave a soft yelp as he was lifted onto the counter as if he weighed nothing. Derek pushed his thighs open just enough to stand between them and leaned into his space. _Fuck._

“Your scent wasn’t what was giving you away,” Derek said, bringing his hand up to brush two fingers over Stiles’ lips as he watched them almost thoughtfully. He slowly moved his hand across his cheek towards his ear, then traced the soft line of his jaw back to his chin. His dilated eyes raised to meet Stiles’ again as he dropped his hand lower to press the pad of his finger against the pulse point in his neck. “I could hear your heart pounding.”

“I was running,” Stiles breathed, which… damn it, Stiles, that’s not sexy. For the millionth time in his life, he cursed his awkward nature and lack of sexual experience.

“You were gasping, too.” Derek’s hand tilted to hold his neck, warm palm pressed against his adam's apple and fingers squeezing the sides lightly, just enough for the blood to pump a bit harder and allow Stiles to hear his own heartbeat in his ears. “You’re not too great at staying quiet, are you, Red?”

“Maybe I _wanted_ the big bad wolf to get me.”

Derek chuckled darkly and let go of Stiles’ throat to hook his finger over the zipper on the leather jacket and start dragging it down, exposing more of the pale skin of Stiles’ torso with every click of the zip chain unlatching. 

Once the jacket was open and pushed from his shoulders, Stiles suddenly felt _very_ exposed. The bathroom was much lighter than the Preserve and the lack of darkness took away any semblance of cover that Stiles’ comfort had relied on. He self-consciously went to cross his arms over his chest, but Derek quickly caught his hands and pinned them to the countertop with his own as he hungrily looked over his slightly-protruding collar bones and toned, mole-spattered torso.

“You can say no...you can tell me to stop, and I swear to you that I will,” Derek told him as he looked urgently into his eyes as if he wanted - no, _needed_ \- this point to get through to him before they went any further. “But don’t hide from me, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded almost timidly and said, “Don’t stop.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ hips and pulled him towards the edge of the counter so that his thighs fit snugly around his waist and their bodies were pressed together. 

Stiles’ eyes flickered between Derek’s and his lips. Fuck, those lips. Stiles had wanted to kiss him for _years_ and now they were so close that he could feel Derek’s breath blowing against his mouth. He almost surprised himself when, instead of kissing him, he tipped his head backwards and to the side, exposing the length of his neck to Derek in what they both knew was a clear invite and submission. 

Derek growled as he leaned in to lick a stripe over the vulnerable skin, which caused a shiver to run up Stiles’ spine. He reached his arms around the man and dug his fingernails into the skin just above his pants as Derek closed his mouth over the wet mark and bit down gently with blunt teeth.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stiles moaned, his hand flying up to pull Derek’s head closer _._

Derek hummed against his throat as he sunk his teeth in harder, almost enough to break skin, and rolled his hips against Stiles groin. The younger man to let out a choked sound that quickly trailed off into a whine as he remembered he was hard as a rock and still in fucking _wet jeans_.

Luckily, Derek seemed to come to the same realization and reached down to unbutton Stiles’ pants and tug the zipper open, before stepping back to unfasten his own. Stiles slid off the counter and the two of them stared one another down for several long seconds, matching heavy breathing and blown pupils. 

This was the moment. The point where once they did this, they _did_ it. This was a decision that was going to change the entire tentative friendship they’d worked up to… and Stiles was more than ready to cross that line.

“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine?” Stiles grinned playfully.

Derek barked out a laugh and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you like it.”

God, Stiles _hoped_ that he liked it, because that was really all he had to offer at the end of the day. Sarcasm, humor, and ridiculousness.

Derek hooked his thumbs in his waistband and swiftly pushed his jeans and boxers down in one movement.

Stiles gaped at the newly-exposed section of his Alpha for about three seconds longer than he probably should have, but _holy shit_ . His eyes dragged down the slight bulges of his abs, then followed the defined muscles of his v-line that led down to... _fuck_. Dark hair trailed from his navel down to his neatly-trimmed pubic area, framing what Stiles guessed was at least nine inches of uncut cock.

“You manscape,” was the only thing that ended up coming out of Stiles’ mouth, because why not? Why wouldn’t Stiles be a fucking idiot in the bedroom when Derek was finally giving him a chance?

“Is this you saying that you don’t?” Derek asked, looking pointedly at his jean-covered crotch.

“Oh my god, yes. No! I mean, I _do_ ,” Stiles said, feeling his face heat up again. He was ruining this! God, he was so stupid!

“Stiles,” Derek said as he moved closer to him and took his face in his hand, making him look at him. “Don’t go in your head.”

“Okay.” Stiles nodded.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Derek reminded him gently, slipping one of his hands around Stiles’ back and rubbing his thumb soothingly against his lower spine.

Stiles _wanted_ to. God, did he want to. But how was he supposed to get naked when Derek looked like _that_? Was it a werewolf thing to have an Adonis body?

A sharp smack against Stiles’ ass startled him out of his thoughts and his hands flew to Derek’s chest to brace himself as he tipped forward slightly.

“Don’t go in your head,” Derek repeated sternly as he held onto his face a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry, Alpha,” Stiles said instinctively, going pliant in Derek’s hands as his eyes glowed red.

“Do you want me?” Derek asked huskily.

“I’ve wanted you for _so_ long.”

Derek stared at him for several seconds, as if trying to determine if he was telling the truth, and then slipped his fingers into his waistband. His pants and boxers were dragged down slowly and Derek kept his eyes on Stiles’ the entire time, graciously giving him some semblance of privacy to hold onto as they moved into this new territory. Stiles was sure that Derek could smell his anxiety, but he hoped that he knew it wasn’t _bad_ anxiety. He was just… this was a lot! He’d wanted Derek forever and it was finally _happening_ and he was experiencing some _serious_ eustress.

Once Stiles stepped out of the clothing pooled around his ankles, Derek nodded towards the shower. Stiles pulled the glass door open and stepped into the hot water, which gently sprayed on his head and shoulders. He groaned as the heat ran down his naked body and seeped into his still-thawing muscles.

The glass door shut and Stiles turned to find Derek closing the short distance between them, the water quickly soaking through his dark hair and causing it to fall down his forehead into his eyes. Derek looped one arm around his waist and hooked the other hand behind his ear, then captured his mouth in a searing kiss. 

Stiles loved the way Derek’s lips moved with his, the way he could feel the subtle scratching of Derek’s beard on his skin, the way his tongue tentatively swiped at his lower lip- as if he wanted to taste, but he was holding himself back. Stiles realized that that was exactly what was happening. Derek was being very uncharacteristically careful with him.

Stiles pulled back and rested his head against Derek’s forehead as he caught his breath, then assured him, “You won’t break me.”

“I could,” Derek replied, almost cautiously. 

“I know,” Stiles said, a smirk playing at his lips. “I think you should try.”

“You sure you want that, Red?”

Stiles wasn’t particularly surprised that Derek kept checking in with him, given the man’s past consent and intimacy trauma, but he really didn’t need it. He trusted Derek wholeheartedly - he’d _earned_ that over the past couple years - and what he really needed was for Derek to stop being such a wonderful man and _fuck his shit up._

Stiles brought his hands up to cup Derek’s face and looked into his eyes. “I’ve wanted you since you slammed me against my bedroom door when I was sixteen. Every single fantasy and wet dream I’ve had since that day has been you. _Always_ you.” He slid his hands back to grip the hair at the base of Derek’s head and leaned in so that his lips brushed against his jaw as he said, “I want you to _wreck_ me, Alpha.”

A feral snarl tore through Derek and suddenly Stiles found his back pressed against the freezing tile wall. His breath caught in his throat as Derek’s body pinned him there, his hard arousal slotted between their bodies and pressing into Stiles’ lower abdomen, while Stiles’ wrists were captured in one of Derek’s strong hands and secured above his head. Goosebumps formed along his skin as Derek fixed him with a look so dark and _starving_ that it sent a shudder through him.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time you opened your insufferable mouth,” Derek admitted, scowling at Stiles’ lips as if it were their fault for letting out so many annoying sounds.

“I thought you wanted to rip my throat out,” Stiles joked breathlessly.

“I did.” Derek leaned in to ghost his teeth over the side of Stiles neck. “I still do.”

Stiles moaned and jutted his hips out in an attempt to gain some friction, but Derek’s other hand grabbed his waist roughly and pinned it against the wall.

“Did I say you could move?” 

“You’re talking too much,” Stiles complained.

“God you’re fucking infurating,” Derek grumbled. He squeezed Stiles’ wrists and said, “Keep them here,” before letting go and putting both hands on Stiles’ sides, tracing the way the smooth skin stretched over his ribs, drew in at the stomach, and then subtly swooped back out to accommodate his hip bones. He stepped back just enough to take a look at the pale, lithe body contrasting beautifully with the black tiles and swiped his tongue over his teeth.

Derek pulled Stiles’ hips out a bit and Stiles’ hands left the wall for a split second, before they were slammed back in their place.

“Sorry, Alpha,” Stiles said.

“You drive me insane every damn day, and you don’t even realize it,” Derek told him, eyes dragging hungrily over the new angle of Stiles’ body. With his hips pulled away from the wall, Stiles’ back was slightly bowed, his chest pressing outwards as his head was tipped back to expose his throat and his arms were above his head. “You’re so frustratingly perfect.”

Derek licked over the pulse beating under the thin skin of his neck, then dipped his head down to nip at his collar bone hard enough for Stiles to wince as a spark of pleasure shot straight down to his cock. He kissed down his chest, pausing for a moment to flick his tongue over his hard nipple, and then mouthed at the toned muscles of his abdomen. 

“Your sarcasm, your incessant talking, your disobedience - you’re an Alpha’s worst nightmare, Red.”

“I’ve been told I have some character flaws.”

Derek chuckled and licked the front of Stiles’ hip, before fastening his mouth over the spot and sucking hard. Stiles’ hips pushed forward a bit more, trying to find relief from the ache of the dark bruise forming under Derek’s lips.

When Derek released the suction, Stiles fell back against the wall and Derek continued kissing and biting at the sensitive skin around his waist.

“I’ve known you wanted me,” Derek murmured, nuzzling his face just beside Stiles’ cock and inhaling deeply to take in his scent, _so_ close that Stiles was about to start fucking _begging_. “I could always smell it on you. So fucking intoxicating - you drive my wolf crazy.”

“Y-you never said anything.”

“What was I supposed to say? That I can’t go a day without jacking off to the fantasy of fucking you into my mattress until you can’t walk?”

Stiles’ muscles subtly flexed through his torso as a soft whine escaped on his breath, and Derek hummed appreciatively against his skin. He flattened his tongue over the trail of hair just above Stiles’ cock and slowly licked his way up his abdomen and sternum, until he was face to face with him again.

“You should get clean,” Derek told him. “I would prefer to take you apart in my bed, since you and slippery showers sound a lot more like a hospital visit than a fun night. Plus, I’d like to be able to smell and taste you without the hints of that nasty ass lake you threw yourself into for no reason.”

“Seriously?” Stiles scoffed. “First of all, _you_ were the reason. Secondly, you’re gonna get me this hard and then make me shower?”

Derek reached up to grab the clean washcloth that was hanging over the top of the shower and Stiles took it with an annoyed huff, before lathering it with soap.

Stiles was about halfway through hurriedly scrubbing at his body, when he felt fingers beginning to massage vanilla-scented shampoo into his hair. He noticed that it matched the smell of the body wash and said, “You’re a vanilla guy, huh?”

“No, you are.”

“Uh, no...I thought we’d already established that I’m definitely not hoping anything vanilla happens when we make it to your room.”

“Your scent,” Derek corrected, shaking his head even though Stiles couldn’t see it since his face was under the stream of water as he allowed Derek to rinse the shampoo out. “Your scent smells like vanilla. And sometimes like black coffee and old books pages.”

“You use soap that smells like me?” Stiles realized. 

“My wolf likes it.” Derek shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

As if he wasn’t admitting to finding so much comfort in Stiles’ scent that he had to get soap that reminded him of it, so he could smell it every time he showered. Stiles definitely wanted to unpack that thought, but he figured now wasn’t the time. Now was the time to get the fuck out of the shower already and leap into his Alpha’s bed.

“Am I clean enough yet?” Stiles asked. 

Derek used the grip on his hair to pull him backwards out of the water and against his chest, his head tipped back on Derek’s shoulder. The wolf dragged in a deep breath as he slowly ran his nose along the side of Stiles’ throat, then nodded.

Stiles pulled away and quickly shut off the water, before pushing the glass door open and grabbing a folded towel off the counter to start scrubbing at his hair in a desperate attempt to dry off as fast as possible.

The towel was ripped from his hands and discarded carelessly somewhere in the bathroom - but Stiles was too distracted by the fact that he was being lifted to really notice where it had gone. He wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist and melted against him as their lips found each other and Derek licked into his mouth hungrily. Derek’s hands gripped Stiles’ ass and he let out a shaky moan as he grinded his cock against Derek’s stomach in an attempt to get some relief. 

“Eager, huh?” Derek teased against his mouth.

Yes, being hard for this long had made Stiles pretty damn eager! Stupid fucking Sourwolf.

Stiles bit down hard enough to break skin on Derek’s lower lip, knowing damn well he’d heal, and only let go when the man’s nails dug into the flesh of his inner thighs.

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles hissed, dipping his head down to kiss behind Derek’s ear.

“ _You_ bit _me_.”

“You _know_ what that was for!”

“You’re such a fucking brat,” Derek sighed exasperatedly as he walked into the bedroom, hands massaging Stiles’ thighs and ass.

Stiles felt his heartbeat speed up as they neared the bed and said, “I’m also a bottom.”

“I was counting on it,” Derek said, before tossing Stiles onto the bed and going over to the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube.

Stiles laughed, as he lightly bounced twice on the mattress. “Did you just _throw_ me?” 

Derek made his way to the end of the bed without bothering to answer. He grabbed Stiles’ ankles and pulled him down, before pushing his torso back to lay against the pillows. Instead of draping himself on top of the very willing body, Derek moved down to lay on his stomach, and easily hoisted Stiles' thighs over his shoulders. That action put Derek's face so close to Stiles' straining cock without actually touching him that Stiles momentarily forgot how to breathe.

Was he about to get his dick sucked by _Derek Hale_? Please, for the love of -

His train of thought immediately derailed when he felt the tip of Derek’s tongue tracing down his perineum. Derek’s tongue flattened over his hole and he hummed against him, sending vibrations through Stiles that caused him to sink into the mattress and relax despite how odd of a sensation it was.

Derek’s pointed tongue drew a circle around Stiles’ hole and then possibly made an X, but Stiles had given up the ability to think too hard about it. He never thought he would be someone who would be into rimming, but _fuck_ . The way Derek’s hot, wet mouth was working his sensitive skin over had him digging his heels into the wolf’s back, urging him closer. Occasionally, he would pull away and just _breathe_ \- maybe inhaling his scent, Stiles wasn’t sure. He alternated by letting out hot breaths that rolled over him, clinging heavily to the spit-slick hole, then narrowed his lips to blow cool air against him. The contrast caused his muscles to tense for just a moment, before Derek’s tongue was there to warm him again.

“You taste amazing,” Derek told him, panting lightly as he ghosted his teeth over the skin on Stiles’ inner thigh.

“I need - _fuck_ ,” Stiles moaned as Derek bit down. “ _More_ , please.”

“If I keep going, you probably won’t want me to kiss you - and I plan to.”

Stiles thought about it. On one hand, having Derek’s beautiful tongue in his ass sounded fucking _amazing_ \- but on the other hand...

“I wanna kiss you,” Stiles decided.

Derek eased Stiles’ legs from his shoulders and crawled up his body, stopping every so often to press his lips to the several moles climbing up Stiles’ thighs, hips, and stomach, until he reached his cupid-bow lips.

Stiles figured kissing Derek would be fast and sloppy - maybe even frantic, since he always felt about ready to vibrate out of his skin with how much he wanted him _._ But their kissing _wasn’t_ frantic or unfamiliar. Stiles didn’t feel the sense of _‘finally’_ that he always thought he would, from either of them. Derek moved around his mouth as if he owned it, as if the slide of their tongues and the rhythmic suction of their lips was as familiar as coming home. Stiles wasn’t sure how long they’d been kissing, lost in a comfort that he’d never felt from anyone in his life - and by how tenderly Derek was stroking the side of his face, he was willing to bet that he felt just as _right_.

Finally, after an hour (or maybe a few minutes), Derek pulled back to rest their foreheads together while they gasped in air that they’d forgotten they needed. The edges of Stiles’ mind tingled - from lack of oxygen or the kiss itself, it didn’t really matter - and the heated, charged air between them was almost uncomfortable against his flushed face. They were sharing breath like secrets, intense and bordering on a vulnerable sense of trust so _real_ and so _heavy_ that it should have sent them both scrambling out the door, but they opted to cling to each other instead.

Derek peeled his body off of Stiles and the latter nearly complained, but then he shivered as he felt a lube-slick finger - which, when the hell did Derek even do that? - trace down between his ass cheeks and brush over the hole tentatively. 

“Please,” Stiles whimpered. He let Derek guide his legs open, and shuddered at the way the Alpha’s half-dazed eyes were drifting over his body like he’d never seen something so beautiful.

Stiles sucked in a breath as the tip of Derek’s thick finger breached him, and Derek groaned, sounding even more wrecked than Stiles did, as he said, “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“I haven’t -” Stiles nearly admitted, but quickly stopped himself. Was inexperience a mood killer?

“I know,” Derek said as he worked his finger in deeper until Stiles felt his knuckles press against him. “You only hang out with the pack, and they know better than to touch you.”

“Possessive, huh?” Stiles joked, then let out a choked moan as he felt himself stretch to accomodate a second finger.

“The betas aren’t gonna touch what belongs to their Alpha,” Derek said as he mouthed at the pale skin of Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles felt warmth spread through him at the thought that not only Derek, but the pack, thought of Stiles as his. Or maybe the warmth was because Derek dipped his head lower to flick his tongue over one of his hard nipples several times, before latching his mouth over it to suck gently - which, _God_ , amazing. Stiles slightly arched his back into the feeling, but Derek used the hand that wasn’t opening him up to hold his stomach down to the bed.

“More, please, more,” Stiles begged, trying to grind his body down onto Derek’s hand, which was going way too fucking slow.

“Relax, Pup, I’ve got you,” Derek assured him as he ran his hand from Stiles’ navel up to his throat, then squeezed.

Within seconds, darkness began to dance at the edges of his vision and his brain felt similar to a headrush - tingly, untethered, almost floating. He distantly noticed when Derek added a third finger, but he barely registered the slight discomfort from the stretch. He actually wasn’t registering much of anything at the moment. The only thing he could focus on was the firm, comforting hand around his throat, anchoring him to the moment, to the bed, to the man Stiles had come to trust so implicitly. With his feelings, his secrets, his body, his life.

He was yanked back to focus when Derek’s fingers curled upwards slightly and brushed against a spot that made Stiles seize up for a moment, eyes rolling back in his head. 

“There it is,” Derek mumbled against Stiles’ neck, where he was sucking a conspicuous bruise into his skin.

The grip on his throat loosened and Derek’s hand slid up to brush a stray tear from the corner of Stiles’ eye that he hadn’t even realized he had shed while in his disconnected headspace. Derek kissed him on the mouth again, just as comforting and intimately as before, and Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s waist, embracing the man. He felt the way the air filled his expanding lungs, the sweat that was gathering in the dip of his spine, and the muscles flexing under his skin.

“Please fuck me,” Stiles whispered.

Derek nodded and Stiles felt Derek’s fingers slip out of him, causing him to involuntarily whine at the emptiness, before Derek’s cock pressed against his hole. He must have added more lube while Stiles was distracted, because it was almost effortless for him to slip the tip in. Derek gently pushed himself into Stiles, burying himself a little deeper every time he rocked forward. 

Stiles tried to remember to breathe as he felt the delicious burn of his ass being stretched onto the Alpha’s cock, but it was hard when Derek was stealing his every breath with a passionate kiss. 

When he finally felt Derek’s hips press flush against him as he bottomed out, both men moaned into each other’s mouths. Stiles’ nails dug into Derek’s back, either trying to tether himself to the moment or pulling Derek into a hug - maybe both. Derek held himself off of Stiles by his forearm pressing into the bed by Stiles’ head, and his other hand was firmly gripping Stiles’ thigh, pinning it to his side as he thrusted into him.

Now, trapped between the werewolf and his silk sheets, he knew that sex with Derek wasn’t as simple as he had always fantasized about. He knew that he’d wanted Derek, but the want was _different_ in the moment. It wasn’t just about wanting Derek to fuck him, or wanting to cum. It was so much more than that.

He wanted Derek to never stop the languid rolling of his hips as he rutted inside him, touching where no one had ever gotten the chance to - as if his body was only ever meant for Derek, because it _was_ . He wanted the Alpha to _take_ from him. Everything. His body, his soul, the breath in his lungs. And he wanted to take from Derek, in return. The stress from his shoulders, the pain from his eyes, the hesitancy and uncertainty that he carried around like a shadow. He wanted them to take each other apart and put one another back together again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek hissed, buring his face in Stiles’ neck and inhaling his scent deeply. “You feel _so_ good, Stiles. So perfect for me.”

That was the second time that Derek had called him perfect, and Stiles wasn’t sure how to wrap his head around it. Him, perfect? It made no sense, but if Derek wanted to think he was more than a skinny, clumsy human - he definitely wasn’t going to correct him. 

Stiles thought _Derek_ was perfect. The way he kept standing back up every time life knocked him down - he was so strong. The way he always put his betas first and was ready to do whatever it took to protect his pack - he was such a good Alpha. The way he always asked what people wanted when he’d go out of the house, or the way he donated to the hospital and local schools - he was such a good person.

“I love you,” Stiles blurted out. Both of them froze and looked at each other with matching wide eyes and slack jaws. “Oh, my God, I’m _so_ sorry. I didn’t mean - I mean, I _did_ mean, I _do_ , y’know - but I didn’t mean to _right now_. I know that’s like a thing that you aren’t supposed to do while having sex and I didn’t mean to just say it - I should have waited, I know, but I was feeling things - I mean, obviously I was, that’s - and -”

Derek covered his mouth with his large hand and looked at Stiles, affectionate green eyes gazing into panicked whiskey. Thank God for Derek putting a stop to that disaster ramble - who knows what else would’ve come out.

“I love you, too,” He said softly, as if he was afraid to admit it. Stiles beamed up at him and Derek gently rubbed their foreheads together. 

Derek removed his hand from Stiles’ mouth and cradled his cheek as he went back to rocking into him.

On a particularly deep stroke, Stiles sunk his nails into Derek’s back and dragged down, leaving angry red lines in his wake. He almost apologized, but Derek growled and dug his hands into the pillow on either side of Stiles’ head. He _liked_ it. Stiles did it again, pulling his nails harder through the raised lines of the previous scratches that were still healing, and grinned at the sound of claws slicing through the pillows.

Derek quickly dropped his head onto Stiles’ shoulder and angled his face away from him, breathing deeply with a rumble in every exhale. Stiles wanted to smack him for hiding - it wasn’t like Stiles hadn’t seen him before. It wasn’t like he hadn’t _fantasized_ about it before.

“Derek,” Stiles said, soothing his hand up his back. When he wasn’t acknowledged, he grabbed the nape of Derek’s neck and pulled him back a bit so that he could see him. The wolf’s eyes were shut and his face was tight as he tried his best to hide his fangs behind pursed lips. Stiles moved his hand to brush his thumb over Derek’s bottom lip and pull it down, coaxing his mouth to relax and show the sharp teeth. “Don’t hide from me.”

When he was sixteen, those teeth were the cause of some serious fear - but now? Now they belonged to his Alpha, who he knew would never hurt him. Derek was scary in the way that he could get his blood pumping and chase him through the Preserve, but there was no doubt in Stiles’ mind that Derek would do anything and everything in his power to make sure that no harm came to him. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Derek whispered. 

“We can stop if you want to, but I promise that you losing control over your shift because of how fire my ass is, is not a turn off for me.” Stiles lightly scratched his nails down the side of Derek’s face and through his thickening facial hair as Derek opened his red eyes to look down at him. “Come on, Alpha… you gonna fuck me, or what?”

Derek’s eyes flared brighter and he bared his teeth in something akin to a predatory smile, before snapping his hips up hard enough to knock the breath out of Stiles. Stiles grabbed onto his back again and dug his nails into the skin the way Derek's wolf evidently liked. Stiles tipped his head to bare his throat when Derek nudged at his cheek, then shivered as he growled against his neck. The vibrations resonated in Stiles’ body and shot straight to his cock, which was trapped between their sweat-slick bodies. 

Stiles barely noticed when Derek switched from nuzzling his neck to fitting his teeth over his trapezius, until he bit down and the pain-pleasure threw Stiles over the edge into his climax. Cum shot up to cover both of their chests and added to the slide of their torsos. It was filthy and dirty and Stiles should not have thought it was as hot as he did. Derek didn’t remove his teeth as he continued to plow into him, his thrusts getting more uncoordinated with every one, until his hips stuttered as he filled Stiles with his cum.

They laid there for several long seconds, basking in the afterglow and catching their breaths. Eventually, Derek carefully pulled out of him and Stiles felt the odd sensation of liquid dripping out of his ass - which he couldn’t decide if it was hot or gross. He didn’t have long to think about it, though, as Derek started moving down his body, a clawed hand dragging through the mess of cum on Stiles’ chest and stomach.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked breathlessly.

Derek grunted in response and laid down on his stomach so that he could pull Stiles’ thighs back onto his shoulders the way he had before, when he - _oh fuck_.

Stiles gasped as he felt Derek’s flattened tongue lap at his hole and his hand shot down to grip his hair tightly. Derek growled against his sensitive skin and Stiles whimpered as he felt Derek’s tongue push inside of his used ass. He could feel fangs press against his skin - not enough to hurt, but enough for Stiles to realize _holy fuck, he’s still shifted_.

It probably shouldn’t have made his cock stir a bit to think about how close those teeth were to his genitals, but it really did. How could Stiles have _ever_ thought that he could be satisfied by fucking humans? 

Just as the Alpha’s laving began irritating his overstimulated skin, Derek sat back on his legs and looked down at Stiles’ flushed, messy body.

“Well...holy shit,” Stiles said, and Derek laughed as his features melted back to human. “I should’ve scratched your car sooner.”

“Don’t push your luck, Red - I’m still debating on ripping your throat out.” Derek slid off the bed and headed into the bathroom, then came back with a wet washcloth. 

Thank God, because the stickiness all over Stiles was quickly crossing over into the fucking nasty territory now that he wasn’t drunk on arousal.

“I’ll pay for the scratch,” Stiles offered.

“With what money?” Derek snorted as he began cleaning him off. “Last time you took out your wallet, a potato chip literally fell out onto the ground in front of the delivery guy and I had to come pay for it.”

“Well, you’re rich! Okay? Not all of us are loaded.” Stiles sat up and flailed his arms towards Derek. “And you’re the Alpha! You have to feed us.”

“I can think of other ways you could pay me.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and bit his lower lip excitedly. “Yes, definitely - absolutely down for that.”

“It might take a while to pay off,” Derek warned. 

“I have awhile.”

“Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written this *spicy* of content before, so...I hope it turned out okay.
> 
> [Thank you SaraSamslave for letting me spice up your fluff fic!]


End file.
